


If You Give It a Name

by J (j_writes)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Knocking about with someone, seeing movies, having bevs?  If that's all it was, then I'd be dating Michael, wouldn't I?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Give It a Name

**Author's Note:**

> [fictional characters based on the internet personas of actual people, doing entirely fictional things. I do not give permission for this work or any of my others to be used in Rooster Teeth content. podcast transcripts also fictional.]
> 
> thanks to Llassah for Gavin-wrangling, and to Unfinishedidea for prompting, cheerleading, reviewing, and generally being the reason that I care about these people in the first place - this is at least 85% her fault. all remaining errors are my own.

GF: "Yeah, but what do we even mean by _dating_ , though?"  
BB: "Go on."  
GF: "I mean, knocking about with someone, seeing movies, having bevs? If that's all it was, then I'd be dating Michael, wouldn't I?"  
GS: "Are you?"  
BB: "Maybe he is and he doesn't know it."  
GF: "Yeah, but that's not _all_ it is."  
GS: "Sure sounds like dating to me."  
GF: "But we're not bumping knobs, are we?"  
BB: "I don't know, are you?"  
BD: "You don't have to be having sex be dating."  
BB: "No, but, okay, if that's how Gavin defines it for him, if you've got to be 'bumping knobs,' Gavin, let's say you were. _Then_ would it be dating?"  
GF: "With Michael? No."  
BD: "With anyone else? All those things, plus sex."  
GF: [pause] "Maybe. If we _were_. Which we're not."  
BB: "I give it six months."  
GS: "Nah. Nine, at least."  
BD: "I don't know, I think they might be dating now."  
GF: "Sod off, all of you."  
\- RT Podcast  
_______________

"I swear to fucking god," Michael said, slamming into the office and sending the pieces of Gavin's Tower of Pimps scattering across the floor, "it's like working in a goddamn middle school around here."

Lindsay was the only one in the room, and she leaned down to pick up one of the gold blocks, tossing and catching it as she looked from his sandals up to the beanie crushing down his hair. "Couldn't tell from looking at you," she said dryly. He glared at her, and she blinked back impassively. He tugged at the edge of his hat and slumped down into his chair.

"Gavin?" she guessed, and he shook his head.

"Shockingly, no. Not this time. I just want some goddamn coffee, and Miles and Kerry are having some kind of ultimate smackdown in the kitchen. I don't know why they don't just fuck and get it over with."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Maybe we should put money on that one, too."

He looked over at her, brow furrowing, just in time to catch her tensing up. "What?"

"Uh...nothing?" she offered weakly, turning back to her screen, and he frowned, sliding back so he could see her face, which was intently not paying any attention to him.

"What do you mean, 'too'? Did I miss us betting on someone else's fucking habits?" he asked, and watched her face go through a complicated series of expressions before she turned to look at him again.

"You really mean to tell me," she said, leaning forward, "that no one's told you about this?" He shook his head warily, and could practically see the gears turning in her head as her expression shifted from embarrassed to positively gleeful. "Dude," she said. "You have _no idea_ how much money this company has riding on when you and Gavin finally jump each other's bones."

" _What?_ " he demanded. 

She grinned. "Burnie made some crack on the podcast a million years ago about how he'd put money down that you'd be dating within six months, and some people took him up on it, and then it turned into kind of a _thing_."

"A thing." Michael repeated. "About _my_ thing."

"And Gavin's thing, yeah. I'm kind of surprised you haven't stumbled on it before now, actually. Nobody around here is exactly subtle. Burnie was practically ready to tie you two together there for a while at the six month mark. He was _pissed_ when he lost. Basically everyone's in on it. Kara's got a whole Google calendar set up and everything." She eyed Michael. "Don't let this give you any ideas though, okay? Joel's got until Friday, and he'll be completely unbearable if he wins." She grinned. "But hey, if you decide to make a move by the end of the month, you'd make me a ton of cash. I'd owe you a drink."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A drink?"

"Or like three?" she offered.

"For kissing Gavin?" he asked. "I'd need at least a six pack."

" _Dating_ Gavin, Michael," she pointed out. "I'm pretty sure Burnie's not going to let the pool go for you drunkenly planting one on him. Didn't you already do that in one of the livestreams?"

" _No_ ," he said defensively. "There was no actual mouth-touching involved." 

"Sure looked like there was from my angle."

"Then you were at the wrong angle," he said flatly. "I'd say I can't believe you motherfuckers actually put money on this, but I've met all of you. So wait, say we never get together. Which, I'm going to point out, is basically 100% likely. What happens to the money?"

"Geoff takes it."

He blinked. "Geoff?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "He bet against you. Figured neither of you would ever get your shit together enough to make it happen."

"It's not about getting our shit together," Michael said, his voice raising a few notches. "We don't _want_ to make it happen. It's not like either of us is exactly shy, you know. If we wanted to fuck, we'd be fucking."

"Mmhm," she said mildly. "You've got to admit, though, on a scale of, like, Blaine to Joe the Cat, Gavin's definitely closer to the fuckable side of things."

"Joe the _Cat_? Seriously? That's where you go with this? This is why you win at Cards Against Humanity. Because you're a despicable human being." She shrugged and grinned at him. "Also, Blaine?"

"You wouldn't?" 

"I'm not into _dudes_ , Lindsay."

"Okay," she said mildly. 

"And I'm definitely not into Gavin." Just the thought of Lindsay rating Gavin as 'fuckable' made Michael's insides twist up in embarrassment. It was _Gavin_ , with his stupid ideas and his stupid floppy hair and his stupid made-up words that only meant something a quarter of the time, and sure, he was one of Michael's favorite people, but in that way where he sometimes wanted to hang out and play Halo with him all weekend, and would sometimes rather beat him over the head with a diamond pickaxe instead, not in the way where he wanted to fuck him. _Date_ him. Whatever.

"Okay," she replied again, just as easily. She rolled back to face her console. "You change your mind and want to take me up on this sweet deal, I'll buy you that drink."

"Nah, take your deal and shove it."

She shrugged, reaching for her headphones. "Your loss."

"Pretty sure I'm not going to count it as a loss," he pointed out, but she'd already pulled the headphones down over her ears and was blissfully ignoring him. "Because it's _not_!" he called louder. "Also you're a bunch of creepy-ass motherfuckers!" he added, and she casually shot him the finger over her shoulder without turning.  
_______________

The bar was crowded, but Lindsay had staked out a table in the corner and waved him over when he got there. "Michael, my boy!" Gavin called from beside her, extracting himself from Barbara to cross the room and launch himself at Michael.

"Ugh, get off," Michael said, pushing at him, but he grinned as he followed Gavin back to their table.

They were clearly already a few drinks in, and Gavin waited until Barbara had drifted off to talk to the bartender before he leaned in conspiratorially. "Sweet Michael," he said. "You didn't know that people would pay top dollar to see us touch tips?"

"People on the internet, sure. Not the people we work with. And I don't think they want to _see_ it, Gav. That would be a different kind of bet." He turned to glare at Lindsay. "You went to him with this?"

She lifted a shoulder unapologetically. "He already knew. And you weren't any help."

"You _knew_?" Michael asked, rounding on Gavin, his voice rising sharply, and Gavin shrugged.

"Doesn't mean much, does it?" he asked. "Ray told us to fuck six different times during Minecraft this week."

"Seven," Michael reminded him. "That doesn't mean we _should_. Since when is taking Ray's advice on anything a good life plan?"

"Not taking his advice," Gavin pointed out, "taking his money." He leaned in on his elbows, looking excited. "We haven't planned a heist together as a team yet. We could have codenames and - "

"It's not a heist, Gavin!" Michael interrupted him. "This isn't GTA, this is our _lives_. We're not busting up convenience stores for loose change, we'd be lying about our personal lives, all day, every day. And you are a crappy liar."

Gavin looked wounded. "I'm not."

Michael sighed and looked at Lindsay for backup. "You kind of are," she admitted. 

Michael leaned back with a satisfied expression, holding up his hands. "I rest my case," he said.

"But _Mi_ chael." Gavin draped himself against Michael's shoulder. "I don't _actually_ have to lie about anything. I just have to, what? Sit next to you at everything, talk about you a lot, spend some nights at your house playing games so people think we're shagging. I do all that anyway. It's brilliant!."

Michael ducked away, making a grab for the beer Lindsay was pouring for him out of their pitcher. "It's fucking moronic," he replied. "What do you want us to do," he asked Lindsay, "get caught blowing each other in the office?" He reached to poke Gavin in the side, and Gavin squirmed against him but didn't move away.

"I mean, if you want," she said. "I was thinking something a little less showy, but it's up to you. Burnie's having a party this weekend. It shouldn't be that hard to get someone to walk in on you, right?"

He thought about it for a moment or two before snapping out of it. "Wait, _no_. What? Why am I even considering this? It is a _dumb idea_ , Lindsay."

"Sure," she agreed, "but so are most of the ones you actually go through with. And those don't get you this at the end." She slid her phone across the table towards him.

"That's - " he began, and cut himself off as he read the number there. "No fucking way."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah," she said. "Fucking way. You really want that going to Geoff?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. "He seriously bet against us?" She nodded solemnly. He looked at Gavin across the beer that he was stealing unrepentantly, and Gavin's eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Can't be too bad, can it?" he offered, a faint line of foam clinging to his top lip. "We can stage a real row in a month or two. You can throw things around the office and everything, and then you can go back to - " he waved a hand. "Whatever your love life is doing right now, which as far as I can tell is basically bollocks."

"That's not - " Michael began, and cut himself off at the matching skeptical looks from Gavin and Lindsay. "Oh, fuck off, both of you."

Gavin's face split into a grin. "Are you going to be my _boy_ , Michael?" he asked, pressing more firmly against Michael's side, snaking an arm around him. 

Michael batted his hand away. "I'm already your boy, Gavin," he replied roughly, taking his beer back and swallowing down a huge gulp of it.

"But you're going to be my boy for _real_ for fake," Gavin continued, tipping his head against Michael's shoulder, his hair tickling his neck.

"Motherfuck," Michael muttered darkly, glaring at Lindsay.

She lifted her glass at them. "Congrats, you two," she said dryly. "You make a lovely couple."

"You're a menace, Tuggey."

"And you're going to make me a boatload, Jones, even after we split it three ways. Cheers." She set her drink down to reach across the table towards him. He eyed her hand suspiciously for a moment before sighing, reaching out, and shaking it firmly. Gavin reached to shake with Lindsay as well, and when Michael turned to him with a hand out, he leaned in to press a light kiss to the curve of Michael's jaw instead. 

He felt his face heat up instantly from surprise. "Jesus, Gav," he muttered. "Not yet." 

"'m practicing," Gavin told him, and reached for Michael's beer again.  
______________

"Right, then." Gavin leaned against the wall beside Michael, slowly passing his camera over the faces of the people scattered around Burnie's living room. "We doing this?"

"Put that away," Michael replied, swallowing down the last of his beer and setting the bottle aside.

"What's that?" Gavin asked. "You don't want to save this moment for future generations?" He turned the camera on Michael, who flipped him the finger and reached up to block the lens with his hand. "Hey, careful!" Gavin yelped, darting backwards and shutting the camera off, stowing it away in his pocket. "Can't keep your hands off me?" he suggested in a voice that was exactly the opposite of seductive, and Michael sighed. He looked up to find Lindsay watching their struggle from across the room, and she tilted her glass at him in half a salute.

"Come _on_ ," he said, grabbing Gavin's arm and tugging him towards the back hallway. 

" _Michael_ ," Gavin protested, pulling his arm away. "This isn't very romantic, you know," he said. "I could go find someone else who actually knows how to show a boy a good time instead."

Michael let out an annoyed breath and halted in the middle of the hall, looking around. The sound of the party was muffled faintly, but the bathroom was a few doors down, meaning it was only a matter of time before someone passed by. "Here," he said, and turned to push Gavin lightly up against the nearest doorway, taking some satisfaction in the way he went still as his back made contact with the wood.

His eyes met Michael's, then flickered down towards his lips in the universal symbol of _oh, we're going to kiss now_. Michael breathed out slowly, keeping his hand planted on Gavin's chest and feeling his skin warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Michael?" Gavin prompted, and his voice had lost its teasing tone.

Michael looked over his shoulder to check that there was no one in the hallway yet. "This is so fucking stupid."

Gavin laughed quietly, their faces close enough that Michael could feel his breath ruffle his hair. "The kind of stupid that pays," he pointed out.

Michael returned the laugh. "Guess that's what we do every day," he agreed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Gavin's hand reached up to tangle into his hair, holding Michael against him.

" _Sh_ ," Gavin hissed. "Someone's there." His voice was low and a little breathless, and Michael couldn't help but wonder if he'd sound even more wrecked after he'd been kissed. He closed the brief space between their mouths, leaning in to touch their lips together slowly, at first, tentative, both of them listening for footsteps down the hallway, but then Gavin shifted under him, practically melting back against the door, and Michael fit his body against Gavin's, sliding his hand down to grip him by the hip. They'd been putting on a show together now for years, and they were good at it, Gavin's fingers tugging lightly at Michael's hair, his voice hitching in a wordless noise, and when Michael pulled back, it was to a faintly dazed expression on Gavin's face. 

He turned around triumphantly, and felt his face fall at the sight of Lindsay silhouetted at the end of the hall.

"Damn," she said appreciatively. 

"God _dammit_ , Lindsay," Michael swore, pushing off the door, away from Gavin, and she shrugged.

"Sorry, I figured I should let you know that Jack just showed up with fireworks and pretty much everyone went out back. It might be a while before you get the audience you're looking for." She waved a hand at them. "Although I can think of worse ways to kill the time than what you're up to, so by all means, keep going." He couldn't see her expression as she turned for the backyard, but she waved cheerfully over her shoulder.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered, but he didn't even have long enough to get a good rage going, because Gavin was grabbing him by the arm and dragging him down the hall.

"Come on, Michael, I want to get some shots of the fireworks."

"They're _fireworks_ , Gavin. They all look the fucking same," he pointed out, but he let Gavin pull him away from the dark hallway and out towards the back door. He snagged two beers on his way past the bar, and when they emerged into the yard, he presented one to Gavin, who beamed at him.

"My boy," he said, and leaned in to nuzzle his face against Michael's neck before bounding off to find Jack. Michael raised a hand to his neck and scrubbed at the skin there, turning to find Barbara looking at him speculatively. He rolled his eyes, and she grinned at him. 

"Put money on how long it takes for Burnie to lose his shit at them for doing everything wrong?" she offered.

"Nah, no bet," Michael replied. "He's probably already doing that." He'd barely finished the sentence before Burnie's angry high-pitched Church voice was filtering across the lawn, words indistinguishable but tone unmistakable. 

Barbara grinned at him. "C'mon," she said, looping her arm through his, and he let her drag him off through the party, letting the memory of Gavin's mouth against his fade behind him.  
______________

Things were winding down when they met up again, Gavin stretched out beside Kerry, laughing at some story Kara was telling. Michael perched on the arm of the couch beside him and leaned down. "Gavin, come _on_ ," he said low beside his ear. "People are leaving. We do this now, or we do it at the office." 

Gavin grumbled quietly, but stood and stretched, his shirt riding up. "Where?" he asked as they stepped away, and instead of answering, Michael took his hand and steered him towards the front of the house. The entryway was empty, but people were slowly drifting off after pausing to gather their things from the study. Michael stepped into the study and turned to face Gavin, leaning back against the desk. They were alone for the moment, and the light was better than it had been in the hallway, so this time Michael found himself inspecting Gavin more closely as he leaned in. His eyes were steady on Michael's, lips parting in anticipation of their mouths pressing together, and the fingers of one of his hands curled into Michael's belt loop, stepping closer like he was framing them carefully into a shot. His hair was a mess, and Michael reached to ruffle it more. 

" _Michael_ ," Gavin protested, ducking his head away.

"What, like I'm going to make it worse?" Michael asked. 

Gavin opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again as they heard Miles calling out, loud and close, "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting it."

Gavin's eyes snapped to meet his, and this time, he was the one to move first, pushing Michael back against the desk. He leaned in and paused just before touching their mouths together, and for a split second, Michael found himself unexpectedly _wanting_ it. He breathed out shakily, and it wasn't until he saw a shadow appear in the doorway that Gavin closed the last fraction of an inch between them, taking Michael's mouth with his.

It was deeper than last time, thorough and unhurried, and Michael let his hand trail up Gavin's neck into his hair, half to put on a good show, and the other half to piss him off. Gavin made a quiet noise that might have been a warning, and Michael was smiling against his mouth as he pulled away. His eyes were slow to blink open, and the startled expression on Miles's face was jarring enough that he didn't need to pretend much as he jerked upright, Gavin stumbling slightly.

"Miles," Michael said, and it was easier than it should have been to make his voice a little unsteady. "Look, man, don't - "

"It's cool," Miles said, holding up his hands. "I got you."

Michael nodded, letting his fingers curl sharply into Gavin's hair at the feeling of him shaking with laughter against him, and breathed out a low " _Shit,_ " as Miles grabbed Arryn's purse and backed out of the room. "Don't tell me we're going to have to do that again," he muttered, just before Miles poked his head back in through the door.

"I mean," he added, "as long as the end of that sentence was 'don't forget to tell absolutely _everybody_.'" He gave them a huge grin and disappeared again.

"Thanks, buddy," Michael called dryly, and Gavin unfolded from against him, beaming like they'd just pulled off the job of the century. Michael couldn't help returning the smile. "What do you think?" he asked. "Follow him now, or let the story get around a little?"

"He's probably telling everyone we had our knobs out."

Michael shrugged. "Might be more believable."

"It's not so different, though, is it?"

"Having our knobs out?" Michael asked. "I think it would be a little different, yeah."

Gavin made a face at him. " _This_ ," he said, gesturing between them. "I thought it would be...weird."

"It _is_ weird, Gav," Michael pointed out. "I don't know if you noticed, but Miles just walked in on us _making out_. And now he's out there telling everyone about it, because we want him to. There is basically nothing about this situation that's not completely ass-fucking-backwards!"

Gavin lifted a shoulder. "The kissing's not weird, though," he said mildly.

Michael glared at him. "'Course it's not," he said. "It's not like either of us is exactly new to the concept."

"Yeah, but...we're lads, aren't we?"

"Last time I checked, yeah. What's it matter? A mouth's a mouth. It's not like I'm the first dude you've ever made out with. I've seen that short."

"That was work, though."

Michael shrugged. "So's this, kind of."

Gavin _hmm_ 'd thoughtfully, then turned to look at Michael. "Am I?" he asked.

Michael blinked. "Work?" 

"Your first bloke."

"Oh." He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." Gavin looked pleased with himself, so Michael rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, congratulations. You have gone where no man has gone before."

Gavin grinned. "Michael Jones, the final frontier."

" _Christ_ , you're a nerd."

"You started it," Gavin objected, and Michael was saved from answering by Gavin's phone buzzing in his pocket. He fished it out and winced at the message on the screen. "Barb," he said succinctly.

"Showtime," Michael said. He looked at Gavin, sobering. "You ready for this?"

"Lights, camera, action," Gavin replied, and when he reached for Michael's hand, his fingers were tight and warm around Michael's as he tugged him towards the door.  
______________

Michael got in early on Monday, jamming his headphones over his ears and diving directly into editing so he didn't have to even look up as the others showed up, appearing at their consoles one by one. He was just starting to wonder how far into the day he could make it without interacting with another human at all when Geoff and Gavin rolled in, Gavin plunking down a coffee in front of Michael.

"Morning, sunshine," Geoff called loudly enough for Michael to hear him over himself yelling in his ears, and he waved over his shoulder without turning.

He felt something tickling his hair and reached up to slap Gavin's hand away, but came into contact with his face instead. "Shit, Gavin," he muttered, and Gavin grinned down at him.

"What?" he asked, reaching to knock the headphones off Michael's ear. "I can't say hello?"

"Not...like that!" Michael objected. 

"About fucking time, if you ask me," Jack muttered from his desk, and Michael glared at his back.

"No one did," he snapped.

"Fair enough," Jack replied mildly, and Gavin reached to pull out the cord of Michael's headphones, filling the room with his screaming.

"Jesus, Gavin," Michael muttered, muting his computer and jamming the headphone jack back in. "You're fucking obnoxious, you know that?"

"Wow, Gavin's obnoxious, news at eleven," Geoff said dryly, and it struck Michael how weird it was that everything _wasn't_ weird. It was just a normal morning, Gavin causing trouble as soon as he walked through the door, everyone still under-caffeinated and touchy, the teasing about Gavin kissing Michael hello rolling seamlessly into the routine.

It went on like that, once Michael finally emerged from his editing cave and started running into people in the hallway, in the lunchroom. There was a joke or a comment initially, from most people, but it was tossed off casually, fit into whatever other conversation they were having.

"What did you think?" Gavin asked when Michael brought it up over lunch a few days later. "You thought we'd shock people?"

"Kinda, yeah," Michael admitted. "I mean, I thought...I don't know, it seems like nobody's really _surprised_."

"Well, nobody is, are they? You don't put money down on that sort of thing if you don't think it's likely to happen, do you?"

"Around here?" Michael asked. "Yeah, all the time, about everything."

"True," Gavin admitted. "Still, it's only interesting for so long, who someone's having it off with, isn't it? Not much to say, there. 'Nailing that, eh? Good on you.' That's pretty much all there is."

Michael laughed. "' _Nailing that, eh?_ '" he mimicked. "Has anyone actually said that to you?"

"No, of course not," Gavin replied. "That would imply that anyone finds you attractive." Michael kicked him under the table, and Gavin grinned at him. 

"I am an exemplary specimen of humanity," Michael told him with dignity, and Gavin snorted.

"You're a right knob, is what you are," Gavin said.

"Yeah, well," Michael replied. "Some guys are into that." 

"God, this is going to be _terrible_ for my prospects, isn't it?" Gavin asked. "Everyone's going to think I have shit taste now."

"Should have thought about the long-term implications of this thing before you and Lindsay hijacked me into it," Michael pointed out.

"Nah," Gavin replied. "I'll just get Jon to make me a shirt that says _I survived Rage Quit_ or something. It'll be like a badge of honor."

"Oh my god," Michael said, "can that be all the explanation we ever give for why we break up? 'What happened between you and Gavin?' 'Oh, you know. I rage quit him.'"

"Yes! Do it."

"Done," Michael agreed. He leaned in, sobering a little. "How do you want to break up, anyway?"

"Publicly," Gavin replied without any hesitation, "and messily. I don't want to have to _talk_ about it, right? If everything's completely mullered, no one will want to ask."

"Sounds good," Michael agreed. "You want to fake cheat on me or something?"

"No!" Gavin looked mildly horrified at the suggestion. "I'd never get my end in again if everyone thought I'd done that! No, it just wouldn't work, would it? Us doing - " he waved a hand between them, "this."

"No," Michael agreed, "I guess it really wouldn't." He kicked Gavin lightly under the table. "We're pretty good at it for fake, though, aren't we?"

"We're top," Gavin agreed, and leaned in to kiss Michael lightly as Ray walked into the restaurant, as if on cue.  
______________

Michael leaned heavily on the back of Barbara's chair, tilting her back dangerously. "So have you given up swimming entirely, or what?"

She flailed to grab the edge of her desk and glared at him, then looked from him to where Gavin was leaning against the doorway. "No," she said carefully.

"Good. You. Us. Pool. Riot punch. Tonight."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"What," Gavin asked, "the next time _you_ start seeing someone, you want us to stop inviting you to everything?"

"I don't know, don't you guys want some...alone time?" Barbara offered, and Michael and Gavin both shook their heads vigorously.

"Getting more than enough of that, thank you," Gavin said. Michael shot him a sharp look, and he shrugged minutely. "'s true," he mumbled.

"Swimmy bevs are not a couple activity," Michael assured Barbara.

"Well, except for that time - " Gavin began teasingly, and Barb grimaced.

"Ew, never mind, I'm never getting in that pool again."

"Nah, he's full of shit," Michael promised. "Seriously, have you ever been anywhere less sexy than that pool? There's always like a million people in it."

"But imagine if someone could actually get pregnant," Gavin mused, "from swimming in a pool where you'd jizzed..."

"And on that note," Michael said, letting go of Barb's chair. "See you tonight?" She still looked dubious, so he frowned down at her. "Lindsay's already in. And I promise, your chances of getting pregnant from the pool are very slim."

"Which I wouldn't be!" She beamed at him as he looked at her blankly. "If I did. Get pregnant. In the pool."

He groaned and tilted her chair back sharply one more time before following Gavin out the door. "Never mind," he said, "you're not invited anymore."

"Lies," she called. "You think I'm great. In fact, your boyfriend better watch out."

He choked down his instant reaction of _he's not my boyfriend_ , and drawled "Yeah," instead. "I'm sure he's terrified that you're going to steal me away with your dazzling wit." 

Gavin was leaning against the wall waiting for him, and mouthed _boyfriend_ at him teasingly. Michael ignored him, turning back for their office, but Gavin matched his steps, practically bouncing beside him. 

"She called me your _boyfriend_ , Michael," he said.

Michael glanced around. The hallway was empty, but the doors off it were open, meaning anyone could be listening to them. "I noticed," he replied evenly.

"Am I?" Gavin pressed, and Michael glared at him. 

"You're actually going to make me say this?" Gavin beamed. "Fuck off, Gavin."

Gavin's face fell theatrically. "Don't you _love_ me anymore?" His voice was dramatically earnest, but when Michael looked at him, his eyes were crinkling with the laughter he was trying to hold back.

"Jesus fuck," Michael said, his voice rising. "Why would anyone _ever_ date you?"

Gavin leaned in conspiratorially. "Hot sex," he said solemnly. He pressed a kiss to Michael's cheek as they reached the office, and darted in to flop dramatically into his chair. Ray glanced up at them and made a face, but no one else gave them a second look. Michael settled into his own seat and pulled out his phone.

 _Give me a break,_ he texted Gavin. _You'd gag just_ looking _at a cock._ He sent the message off and tucked his phone away, jamming his headphones down over his hat and turning back to his console, trying to ignore the way his face had gone faintly warm.  
______________

"You know, not for nothing, but there's kind of supposed to be a dating component to this whole dating thing," Lindsay pointed out over lunch, carefully moving her glass an inch to the right to try to catch the ice cubes Gavin was flicking across the table at her.

"We _are_ ," Michael objected, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really?" she asked. "Because from what I can tell, you've been doing a lot of going to the bar with other people, hanging out at the pool with me and Barb, and letting Gavin fuck off with Geoff to work on Minecraft shit instead of pretending to have any actual dates." She eyed them. "What are you doing tonight?"

Michael shrugged. "Bar?" he asked Gavin.

"Bar," Gavin agreed, tossing another ice cube into Lindsay's glass.

"Wrong answer," she replied. 

"You're not invited," Gavin told her. "There, now it's a date, see?"

"No, look, I know how this goes," she said. "You'll go to the bar, you'll end up hanging out with a bunch of other people, you'll get completely trashed, and you'll completely forget you're supposed to be on a date, and go home separately. You really don't think that Geoff and Griffon aren't going to start thinking it's little strange that you never spend the night at each other's places?"

"Geoff and Griffon," Gavin pointed out, "are in no position to call anyone's relationship strange."

Michael tilted his daiquiri towards him in agreement. "Man's got a point," he agreed. "She's not wrong, though," he added to Gavin. "We maybe haven't been giving this 100%." 

Gavin looked at him warily. "No pub?" he asked.

"No pub," Michael confirmed. "How about blender science and video games at mine instead?" 

Gavin perked up slightly at that. "How scientific are we talking?"

Michael shrugged. "If the blades can chop it up, you can put it in there."

"Deal."

"Happy now?" Michael asked Lindsay.

She beamed at him. "I feel that my winnings are secure," she allowed.

" _Our_ winnings."

"That's what I said." 

"Mmhm," Michael replied skeptically. "And when are we going to see those, exactly?"

"When you've accomplished your mission," she replied.

Gavin responded to that by shooting the next ice cube neatly down Lindsay's shirt. 

They went home separately that night, Gavin to pack a bag, and Michael to stop at the store for drink ingredients, and when he showed up on the Ramseys' porch, it was already dark. He could hear Geoff yelling indistinctly through the open window, and when he rang the doorbell, Griffon answered the door with a drink in her hand, still laughing.

"Please," she said earnestly, "take him away."

Michael grinned and ducked into the house behind her. When they made it to the living room, Geoff had Gavin in a headlock, both of them half hanging off the couch, and Gavin was gasping with laughter as he met Michael's eyes desperately.

"Michael, _save_ me!" he cried.

"Nope," Michael replied, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Whatever you did, I bet you deserve it."

"He does," Geoff assured him, and dumped Gavin onto the floor. "Take him, would you?" 

Gavin stumbled to his feet and darted out of range of Geoff's grasp, tucking himself against Michael's side. "I don't know," Michael replied, "I'm not sure I want him either."

" _Michael_ ," Gavin said reproachfully. "Don't you want me to – " he leaned in and whispered some gibberish into Michael's ear, but just the thought of what he meant Geoff to think he was saying was enough to make Michael turn red.

Geoff grimaced. "Ugh," he said as Griffon settled onto the couch beside him, "the less I have to think about this, the better. Get out of my house." He dropped an arm around Griffon. "So I can – " he added, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Gavin made a face at them. "Ugh, same," he said, and tossed them a wave as he tugged Michael towards the hallway.

"Have fun storming the castle!" Griffon called as the door closed behind them.

"Is that what we're calling it these days?" Michael asked, and Gavin laughed.

It was nothing new, sitting around his apartment with Gavin, playing games and making progressively more horrifying drinks, but it was oddly nice to hang out with him where no one was watching. Gavin had always been a handsy drunk, but they were tactile in ways that felt familiar to them, rather than like an act they were putting on, and Michael found himself drifting off as they watched a movie late into the night with his head resting against Gavin's lap, Gavin's arm flopping warmly over his shoulders.

He woke to the feeling of Gavin's fingers curling into his hair, and he made a low noise of protest, his glasses folding uncomfortably against his temple as he pressed his face to Gavin's jeans. "Fuck _off_ ," he mumbled, reaching up to pull off his glasses, and Gavin tugged lightly at his hair.

"Michael," he said, his voice tired and scratchy. "Michael, you're on my bed."

"No'm not," Michael replied. He tossed his glasses onto the coffee table with a clatter. "Your bed's at Geoff's. He and Griffon are probably fucking on it right now."

" _Ugh_ ," Gavin replied, shoving Michael's head off his lap and standing. Michael burrowed into the couch, closing his eyes again. "For that, I’m taking _your_ bed."

"Mmkay," Michael agreed, and Gavin paused.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Michael waved a hand over his head at him. "I don't fucking _care_ , Gavin." He buried his face in the pillows and heard Gavin shuffling around the living room, shutting off the TV and the lights, tossing a blanket at Michael's head. He grumbled in protest, but shoved and kicked at it until it was more or less covering him, and by the time he'd gotten comfortable, Gavin had disappeared into the bedroom. "Just don't fucking jerk off in there," Michael called, and he could hear Gavin laugh quietly in reply.

"Oh," he moaned theatrically, " _Michael_. Your sheets are so _sexy_."

Michael shook with silent laughter, curling up under the blanket. "You get jizz on them, you're buying me a new set."

"Good night, Michael," Gavin replied pointedly, and Michael grinned.

"Night, Gav," he said on a yawn, and he fell asleep nearly immediately to the sound of Gavin starting to snore quietly in the next room.  
______________

"Gavin, _no_."

It was too late, of course - Gavin was already in the air, limbs flailing as he launched himself into the pool, narrowly missing landing on Michael's head. Michael ducked underwater and tackled him before he surfaced, wrestling him into the wall of the pool before they both popped up, gasping for air. 

" _Mi_ chael," Gavin objected. He twisted around to try to look at his shoulder, which was faintly red where he'd scraped against the wall, but he ended up just spinning in a circle like a dog chasing his tail.

"You're fine, Gavin," Lindsay assured him. "I'm pretty sure they won't have to take the arm."

"And if they do," Michael said, "I know a great surgeon."

"Can you imagine us as proper surgeons, though?" Gavin asked, floating over to grab his drink from the side of the pool. "That would be top."

"That would be _bottom_ , are you kidding me?" Michael said. "We'd kill _everything_."

"But Team Nice Dynamite in the OR, Michael!"

"You might want to rethink that name, though," Barbara pointed out. "Blowing things up is generally frowned on in surgery."

"Yeah, but we're _nice_ dynamite," Gavin assured her.

"We'd only blow up the body parts people need removed," Michael added. He boosted himself up out of the pool and grabbed his empty glass, carrying it over for a refill. The last of the punch dribbled out into his glass, and he shook the container sadly. "Baby's dead," he announced.

"Call in Dr. Jones and Dr. Free," suggested Lindsay. 

Michael collapsed onto his towel and stretched out, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the others drifting lazily around the pool. He must have dozed off, because he opened his eyes a while later to the feeling of Gavin settling down beside him, poking him lightly on the chest.

"You're crisping," he pointed out. 

Michael grumbled wordlessly in reply and flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the cool darkness between his arms. He felt Gavin's hands patting at the waistband of his trunks, and twisted away. " _Hey_."

"We need your keycard," Gavin said. "Barb's going to make more riot punch."

"It's not in my _bathing suit_ , Gavin, Jesus." Michael felt around beneath the edge of his towel and pulled out the card, tossing it to Barbara, who caught it neatly. 

She scooped up the cooler and tucked it against her side. "Anyone need anything else?" They all mumbled in the negative, Lindsay sprawling out on the beach chair beside them, and Barbara waved as she headed off for the building.

Michael tried to get comfortable again, but Gavin was twitchy by his side, thumbing through his phone, fidgeting around, shaking the water from his hair and splattering Michael's back. "Fucking _stop_ ," he muttered, flinging an arm across Gavin's waist, pinning him down to his towel. Gavin made a noise of complaint, but he stilled, setting his phone aside and closing his eyes. Michael twisted his head to the other side, cracking his neck and getting more comfortable, and when he glanced up, Lindsay was looking down at them with an expression half-hidden by her sunglasses. "What?" Michael asked her.

She gave him a tiny smile. "Nothing."

He closed his eyes, and drifted off again to the feeling of Gavin pressing warm against his side, and it wasn't until later, when Barb had returned and they were well into their second cooler of punch, that he realized what Lindsay's smile had meant.

"Well, shit," he said aloud, and Gavin made a sleepy noise beside him, rolling over to look at him. "Never mind, Gav," he said. He ruffled Gavin's hair and stood, stretching. "I'm going back in." He flung himself headfirst into the pool without another word, letting the shock of the cool water hit him and trying not to think about the fact that while Barb was in the house, he'd been putting on a show for no one at all.  
______________

It wasn't the first time he'd danced up on Gavin in a club to make him laugh.

It was something he did a lot, actually, at bars, at parties, during AHWU, in the kitchen when Gavin was trying to make toast and fending him off with the hand holding his knife, despite the protests of any reasonable bystanders. It was an easy way to get a smile out of Gavin, pressing up against his side and grinding his hips into him with very little rhythm or finesse, and when Michael saw him standing there, leaning on the bar and staring off into the distance, he couldn't help fitting himself into the space beside him and starting to dance, jostling his drink.

It wasn't the first time, or the fifth, or probably even the twentieth, but it was the only time that Gavin's hand had ever dropped to his waist, his fingers curving against Michael's hipbone where his shirt was riding up, and he tilted his head to say "Hey," into Michael's ear.

"Not dancing?" Michael asked, nodding to their friends on the floor, and Gavin shrugged. 

"Needed more bevs," he said.

"Always need more bevs," Michael agreed, finishing his off and plunking the empty cup down onto the bar. It freed up his hands, so he let one fall around Gavin, whose fingers were still pressed lightly to the skin of his hip.

Gavin kept his face determinedly neutral for an impressively long time, so Michael twisted his hips against him slower, more in time to the music, until Gavin's eyes were flickering over towards him, his lips starting to pull up in a smile. "You're crap at that, you know," he said, and Michael grinned at him from too close to his face.

"I know," he said cheerfully, and shifted so he was more in front of Gavin than beside him, fitting their bodies together more closely. 

Gavin laughed finally, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the club, but he leaned in close to Michael's ear so he could hear him as he said, "I'm better."

"Bull _shit_ you're better," Michael replied. "You trying to dance looks an awful lot like your creeper humping the air."

" _Hey_ ," Gavin objected, and his fingers tightened against Michael's side, digging into the skin there. He braced his other hand against Michael's back, his drink cold and sweating on him through his shirt, and Michael flinched away, but Gavin was moving against him, twisting his hips with more rhythm than Michael had expected, and Michael raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too impressed.

"Okay, okay," he allowed. "You can move, kinda."

"Kind of?" Gavin repeated, frowning, and he lifted his drink over Michael's shoulder to drink down most of it. Michael took the cup from his fingers, tossing the rest back, and reached over to drop it into his own empty glass. " _Michael,_ " Gavin objected, and Michael shrugged, pulling Gavin closer and grinding up against him.

"You want to play this game, I'll play," Michael said, and Gavin made a confused noise beside his ear.

"It's not a game," he said. "It's dancing."

"No, it's definitely a game," Michael replied, and Gavin stopped saying anything at all as the music changed and the crowd around them pressed closer, making Michael slide an arm around Gavin just for balance. He went at it like he went at anything, with single-minded determination, focused on keeping himself in time with the music and with the occasionally jerky movement of Gavin's body, counting himself racking up the points as Gavin's fingers tightened against his skin, as his breath started to come more quickly against the side of Michael's face, as he eventually began to match his motion to Michael's instead of trying to set his own pace. He wasn't sure how long they rocked together like that, but it was long enough for the friction to start to get to him, for him to feel his face getting hot, his own breath matching Gavin's, and when he looked up to catch Gavin's eyes again, they were blown and dark, his hair damp and hanging down into them.

" _Michael_ ," he said a little helplessly, and Michael slowed his movements down until he was barely moving, teasing against Gavin, who let out a noise that Michael couldn't quite hear over the noise of the club.

"What's that?" he asked. "Didn't hear you."

"You _wanker_ ," Gavin ground out, and he shifted so he was flush against Michael, unmistakably hard in his pants.

" _Oh_." Michael breathed out the word almost soundlessly and stilled instantly. He was suddenly aware of the people pressing on all sides of them, of the group of their friends dancing a way off, occasionally casting glances over at him, and he felt himself seize up, his fingers going tight in the back of Gavin's shirt instead of pressing flat against his skin through the fabric. They brushed up against each other as people moved around them, and he could suddenly feel nothing but that point of contact, Gavin pressing against him, both of them overheated and overstimulated and hopelessly turned on, and there was a part of him that made him want to tighten the hand he had in Gavin's shirt and haul him off to the bathroom by it, shove him up against the wall and see what kind of noises he would make trying to keep quiet as Michael got him off right there in a stall. " _Fuck_ , Gavin," he said quietly instead, and pushed away from him.

Gavin's smile was more casual than Michael would have expected. "Yeah, all right," he said. "Good game. I win."

"You – " Michael choked out, and Gavin shrugged.

"You flinched first, yeah?" he asked. He slung an arm around Michael's neck, pointing them towards where Barb was waving them over. "Come on, then."

Michael ducked out of his grasp. "No, I – " he said, flailing around helplessly for words for a moment. "I think I'm going to go."

Gavin looked disappointed. "But Michael – "

"I've gotta _go_ , Gavin," he said. He looked over to see Barb watching them intently, so he leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Gavin's mouth. "Have fun, okay?" 

"Yeah," Gavin said, still looking a bit dazed. "Okay."

Michael left him standing there in the crowd and booked it for the cab stand. It was a short ride back to his place, but it was a walk he did not in any way feel like making at the moment. He stared blankly out the window as the streets rolled by, and when they pulled up in front of his building, he practically threw the money at the driver and ran the rest of the way to his apartment. He leaned back against the door as it closed behind him, and thunked his head loudly against the metal.

" _Fuck_ , Gavin," he muttered again out loud to his empty apartment, and he shoved his hand down his pants.  
______________

"You could just…stay," Gavin pointed out.

They were sprawled on Gavin's bed, Michael's legs kicked up over Gavin's, for the dual purpose of giving him someplace comfortable to prop his feet and keeping Gavin from kicking rhythmically as they played.

"Yeah?" he asked, and Gavin shrugged.

"Don't see why not."

Michael shrugged back. They'd kept most of their hanging out alone to Michael's place, half because it was more convenient to work, and half because "I'm not taking a walk of shame in front of _Geoff_ , Gavin."

"Are you ashamed of me, Michael?" Gavin had asked teasingly, and Michael had glared at him.

"It's an _expression_."

"You wouldn't have to leave, though, really," Gavin had objected, and then they'd both paused while they considered the supreme awkwardness of getting ready for work around the Ramseys. Before coffee. "Yeah, all right, no," Gavin had agreed, and that had pretty much been the end of that. But now that he was stretched out on the bed late at night, Gavin warm and sleepy beside him, Michael's apartment suddenly felt unmanageably far away. 

"Yeah," he agreed belatedly. "Why not?"

Gavin smiled over his shoulder at him, and his character onscreen died horribly while he wasn't looking.

"Goddamnit, Gavin!" Michael tossed his controller at him, and Gavin shrugged unapologetically and yawned. He turned the console off and shoved both the controllers onto the floor. He followed them, rolling out from under Michael's feet to fall off the bed, half catching himself on the edge of the mattress. "Smooth," Michael said dryly, and Gavin lazily shot him the finger as he headed for the bathroom. 

Michael shifted around towards the pillows, pulling down the sheets and considering his options for a moment before finally just kicking off his jeans, leaving him in his boxers and a t-shirt. Gavin hit the lights on his way back into the room, and climbed into bed with a not-insignificant amount of elbowing and kneeing Michael as he climbed over him.

"Jesus, Gavin," Michael muttered. "Just get in from the other side."

"But I always get in from that side," Gavin objected, stretching out beside him.

"Even when you have someone else here?" Michael asked, and Gavin was silent for just a moment too long. "Wait, you're kidding me," Michael said.

"What?"

"You've never had anyone over here? Ever?"

"Well, that's a bit intimate, innit?" Gavin objected. "Letting someone sleep in your bed?"

Michael started laughing. "You've got to be fucking with me," he said. "It's intimate for _you_ to let them stay over, but you're just fine going back to their place?"

"Or their hotel room, or whatever," Gavin agreed. "You've met Geoff, Michael. Would you want to subject people you're sleeping with to running into him on their way out of the house?"

"More like you don't want to deal with having to talk to them when you wake up," Michael pointed out, and he felt Gavin shrug beside him.

"That too."

"Man, I guess I should feel honored," Michael said. "Getting to sleep in the bed of the great Gavin Free."

"That's not – " Gavin objected, and sighed heavily. "It's different, though. You let someone stay over, and they might start thinking that things _mean_ stuff or something."

"Right," Michael replied dryly. "We wouldn't want people assuming that things mean stuff."

Gavin kicked at him, and Michael shifted away, giving Gavin a shove. Gavin caught his arm and they grappled for a moment or two before Gavin broke it off, rolling away to his side of the bed. "You know what I mean," he insisted, and Michael shrugged.

"Sure," he agreed, "you mean that you're kind of an asshole."

"How many people have _you_ had at your flat?" Gavin demanded, and Michael shrugged. 

"A few," he said. He couldn't see Gavin in the dark, but he could practically feel the intense stare he was giving him.

"Yeah?" Gavin finally asked.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "I've been living here a _while_ , Gavin. You don't talk about the people you hook up with. What makes you think I would?"

Gavin shrugged. "You talk about things."

"Well, it's none of anyone's business, is it?"

"No," Gavin agreed. "I suppose not." He was quiet for a long time, then rolled to face Michael. "Who was the last one?"

Michael quickly pushed away the first thought that came to mind, the feeling of Gavin grinding up against him in a dark club. "I guess it was…what, a couple months ago? Arryn's friend, from that party?"

Gavin hummed appreciatively. "Did you?" he asked. "I forgot about her."

Michael opened his mouth to ask about Gavin's last time, but he realized suddenly that the last thing he wanted to do was keep talking about it, because heat was already beginning to pool in his lower half at the combined impact of thinking about Gavin's body against his and the memory of spreading that girl out on his bed, getting her off again and again. He didn't want to have to picture Gavin tangled up in bed with some girl he'd met in a bar, didn't want to consider whether he was awkward fumbly Gavin when he was getting someone off, or if he got into a zone like he did while he was troubleshooting the Phantom, intently focused and determined. He closed his eyes and curled into a ball with his back to Gavin, trying to think about anything else.

"Are you tired, Michael?" Gavin asked into the darkness.

"Yes," he said resolutely. "And so are you. That's why we stopped playing, remember? Because we were both basically asleep?"

"I _was_ ," Gavin agreed, "but I'm not anymore."

"Then get up," Michael suggested.

"I can't, though, can I? Then I'd get you whinging at me that I'm making too much noise."

Michael pressed his face into the pillow and sighed. "Fine, Gavin," he muttered. "I'll leave, okay?"

"What? No!" Gavin rolled over to wrap himself fully around Michael. "It's not safe to drive when you're tired, you know."

Michael laughed into the pillow. "Right, because you're the person to be dispensing driving advice." He shifted around a little, trying to shake Gavin off, but he'd settled in against Michael's back and refused to be moved. "Just, fucking – I don't know, count sheep or some shit. Do whatever you'd normally do to fall asleep." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were a mistake, before he even felt Gavin laughing quietly against his neck, and he groaned. "No, never mind – " he began, but Gavin interrupted him.

"So, you're telling me to monk it, then."

"No, I'm _not_ ," Michael objected, and he wanted to roll over, to push Gavin off and wrestle him back to the other side of the bed, but his dick had other ideas entirely, and the thought of getting his hands on Gavin wasn't any more helpful than the thought of Gavin stretching out beside him and taking himself in hand.

"You know," Gavin said, pulling back slightly on his own and propping himself up on one arm to look down at Michael. "People are going to think we _know_ things now, aren't they?"

"No, Gavin," Michael said dryly, "I am pretty sure no one is ever going to assume that you and I know much about anything."

"No, but, about shagging blokes," Gavin continued. "Like, what if someone starts asking me about something to do with having gay sex, and I don't have an answer?"

Michael buried his face into the pillow and groaned. "I don't fucking _know_ , Gavin. Why don't you just google that shit? Watch some porn for educational value."

"I don't like porn."

"You're so fucking bizarre, man."

"But Michael! What if – "

"What if _what_ , Gavin?" he asked, finally rolling over to look at him, inching backwards so his legs were almost at the edge of the bed. "What if someone assumes you're some kind of gay sex genius now that you've spent a month theoretically banging me? I'm pretty sure no one assumes you're a straight sex genius right now. And if anyone asks, you just fucking dodge the question, like you do with every other one you don't want to answer. Why is this even a _thing_?"

"Because I'm a crap liar, Michael, you said it yourself."

"You knew that when we started this thing, and _you're_ the one who thought it was such a brilliant idea in the first place."

"It hasn't been so bad, has it?" Gavin asked.

Michael shrugged, thinking about how much time he'd spent with Gavin in the past few weeks, most of it just doing things they'd normally be doing, sometimes with kissing involved. "No," he admitted. "It's been pretty okay." Gavin made a satisfied noise and rolled over, and Michael was starting to hope that maybe that was the end of it, maybe Gavin was finally tired too, when Gavin scooted to press back against him, and Michael flailed, nearly falling out of the bed and needing to grab onto Gavin to keep his balance. "What the _fuck_?" he demanded, but it was too late. Gavin was twisting to look at him, and even in the dim light from the edges of the window, Michael could see the grin spreading across his face.

"Maybe I'm not the one who needs to be monking it," Gavin said, and Michael felt his face flush.

"Look, we were talking about – " he waved a hand and shifted uncomfortably. "Ugh, fuck _off_ , Gavin. Just…maybe don't talk about sex for like thirty seconds or something, okay?"

"Yeah," Gavin agreed easily. "All right." Michael knew him better than to think he was going to stop there, and sure enough, a few seconds later, he added, "Or…"

"Or _what_?"

"We _could_ ," Gavin suggested in the same casual voice, and Michael felt like the air had been sucked right out of him. 

"Gavin -" he said, and Gavin had clearly been expecting a denial, because he forged right on.

"Think about it, though, Michael. It doesn't _count_ , right? We've done loads of things, and all of it is just…we're having it on. It's perfect, see, because then we wouldn't have to lie at all, and we'd have a bit of fun, and - it's like a hypothetical question, innit? "

Michael choked out a laugh. "What would happen if Michael and Gavin banged?" he asked, and Gavin shrugged.

"Aren't you even a bit curious?"

Michael opened his mouth to immediately deny it, but weeks' worth of memories of Gavin's mouth and hands and weirdly flexible legs made him close it again and actually consider the question. "A little, maybe," he admitted finally. 

"It's a bit of a tease, yeah? All this snogging and no payoff."

"Yeah, but the snogging's been for other people's benefit," Michael pointed out.

"Right," Gavin agreed. "So the payoff is for ours."

Michael opened his mouth to make fun of his Gavin-logic, but instead of giving him the chance to answer, Gavin leaned in, wrapping a hand around Michael's neck to pull him closer, and when their mouths collided, the kiss was familiar but more heated than they'd ever had before. They stayed like that for a long time, until Michael reached for Gavin's hip and pushed him back, moving them both away from the edge of the bed. Gavin broke the kiss, catching his breath, and he let Michael press him back against the pillows easily. Something about the effortless way he responded to Michael's touch made Michael bite his lip from how fucking hot it was, and then Gavin's mouth was there again, his fingers sinking into Michael's hair and tugging sharply, pulling until Michael was stretched out over him, balancing with a hand on the headboard.

He'd gotten oddly comfortable with kissing Gavin, but it was a thousand times more intense like this, leaning over him with his dick straining in his shorts, both of them certain of where it was heading for the first time since they'd started this whole experiment. He held himself there for a long time, drawing out the tease until Gavin was making quiet desperate noises into his mouth, his hips starting to tilt up off the bed towards Michael.

"Yeah?" Michael asked one last time, and Gavin had to gasp for breath before he could answer.

" _Fuck_ yes, Michael." He reached up and grabbed Michael's hip, dragging him down against him, and Michael closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to Gavin's shoulder, breathing out slowly at the feeling of their dicks sliding together through the thin fabric of their shorts. He moved his hips carefully, experimentally, and when that pulled a groan from Gavin, he started moving more smoothly, rocking down against him.

He did that until he couldn't stand the feeling of clothes against him anymore, his shirt sticking to his back, their boxers the only barrier between his dick and Gavin's skin, and he backed away, pulling off his shirt as he went. Gavin made a noise of protest, but when Michael threw his shirt at him, he quickly caught up, the bed creaking as he shuffled around pulling off his clothes. 

There was a brief moment of hesitation as Michael knelt beside him again, both of them looking each other over in the dim light of the room. He'd seen Gavin nearly naked plenty of times, over the years of swimming and dumb pranks and shared hotel rooms, and he'd never quite connected the sight with his definition of attractive before, but looking at him now, with his muscles tense under his skin, his dick curving up begging to be touched, his fingers flexing like he didn't know whether to reach for Michael or not, Michael wanted nothing more than to touch him everywhere and see how he could make him respond. It seemed uncomfortably intimate, though, the thought of touching him just to feel his skin under his hands, so Michael reached for his dick instead, closing his hand around it lightly at first, getting used to the unfamiliar angle and the slide of Gavin's foreskin under his grip.

Gavin arched up into his touch, predictably responsive, and Michael let his thumb slide over the head of Gavin's dick to hear the startled noise he let out. " _Fuck_ , Gavin," Michael breathed, and found himself wondering what he would sound like with a mouth on his dick instead of a hand. He gave a few more strokes, steadier, getting into a rhythm, and Gavin's breath was coming quick and ragged by the time he paused to pull back a little and lean over.

"What – " Gavin began dazedly, and when Michael closed his hand around him again and moved close enough for Gavin to feel his breath against the head of his dick, he jerked with surprise. " _Michael_ \- " he began, and Michael gave him a few slow strokes before leaning in to close his mouth around him lightly.

He'd never even considered giving a blowjob before, but he'd been on the receiving end enough to know the basics, and Gavin was so sensitive that he didn't feel the need to take him in too far, anyway. He kept jerking him, more slowly now, sliding his hand steadily over him while he sucked at the head, teasing occasionally with his tongue until Gavin's fingers were twisting into his hair, pulling him away, gasping out Michael's name tangled up with a string of curses as he came in Michael's hand.

Michael sat back, feeling smug at the way Gavin collapsed into the bed, looking utterly drained. "Why are you good at that?" he finally asked accusingly, propping himself up on an arm, and Michael shrugged.

"Naturally skilled?" he offered. "Plus, I think you're just really easy."

"I'm _not_ ," Gavin objected, and tackled Michael into the bed. They wrestled briefly, but Michael was more invested in getting off than winning, so he spent most of his energy rubbing his dick against Gavin's hip instead of trying to get him pinned. "Impatient," Gavin finally said, reaching for him, and Michael bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from making an embarrassingly loud noise as Gavin's hand closed around him. "I don't think – " Gavin said, looking down at him speculatively, and Michael shook his head, anticipating his words before he finished.

"No, don't even try," he said. "There is nothing sexy about you retching."

Gavin looked faintly relieved, and Michael twisted his hips up to thrust faster into Gavin's hand. Gavin looked down at him and stilled his movements, watching Michael arch up in desperation. 

"You could do it, couldn't you?" Gavin asked him, holding his hand still around Michael's dick. "If I stayed like this. You could bring yourself off just doing that."

" _Don't_ ," Michael said, his voice coming out more pleading than he'd intended, and he saw the flash of interest in Gavin's eyes at his tone, but he took pity on him this time, moving his hand again in time to the motion of Michael's hips. Michael tried to hold out for as long as he could, but he was so far gone that it took hardly any time at all before he was losing it, coming to the feeling of Gavin's hand sliding over him and the sound of his own ragged breath in his ears.

" _Fuck_ , Gavin," he said afterwards, rolling over and sprawling out on his stomach, and he felt Gavin nodding as he stretched out beside him.

"Why haven't we been doing that from the beginning?" Gavin asked, and Michael laughed.

"Fuck if I know, man."

"Seems like poor planning on our parts."

"Right, because that's something no one would have ever expected," Michael said dryly. He rolled onto his side and looked at the dim outline of Gavin against the window. "So, what do you think?" he asked. "Are you an expert now?"

He could hear the grin in Gavin's voice as he replied, "Oh, I don't know. I think _I'm_ all right, but you might need some more practice."

Michael felt no remorse at all about the muffled yell Gavin let out as Michael nailed him in the face with his pillow.  
______________

"You look like you could use this." 

Griffon settled down next to him, pressing a drink into his hand, and Michael sniffed at it dubiously. "If you poison me, Geoff will have to hire someone else to be the office asshole," he pointed out.

"Oh, I think they've got plenty of those," she said. She clinked her glass against his and took a long drink, and he frowned deeply before joining her. It burned going down, and he tried not to cough as he set it aside, wincing. 

"Thanks," he said hoarsely.

She leaned back beside him, tucking her feet up under her and following his eyes to find Gavin leaning back against Geoff's knees, gesturing animatedly as he talked. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

He looked over at her sharply and reconsidered his stance on the drink, picking it up again. "Right now?" he asked. "I'm sitting here. Enjoying your party."

"Yeah, okay," she replied. "How about a real answer?" She nodded in Gavin's direction.

"If this is a 'what are your intentions for our boy?' talk - " he began, and she cut him off with a withering look. "Yeah," he said. "I didn't think so." 

"Look, you might have Geoff and most of these assholes fooled," she said, "but I've gotten really good at knowing when Gavin's lying to us." She eyed Michael carefully. "The thing is, right now? I can't tell if he is anymore." 

He blinked at her. "I don't know what you mean," he said steadily.

"Do us both a favor and don't try to bullshit a bullshitter, Jones," she said. "I don't know if you're fucking with him, if he's fucking with you, or if you've both dispensed with the 'fucking with' and gone straight to the 'fucking,' but since it's going to be Geoff picking up the pieces when this little prank inevitably crashes and burns, I'd just like a heads up if either of you has even the slightest clue what you're doing?"

Michael considered blanking her again, but Gavin had his head resting against Geoff's knee now, and Michael could think of nothing but taking Geoff's place, letting Gavin press up against him, curling his fingers into his hair, and it fucking _sucked_ how bad he wanted it. "I don't know," he said, his voice a little hoarse and strained, and he took another sip of his drink. "I really don't know."

She sighed. "Yeah, I didn't think so," she said. She leaned back against the wall. "How long are you going to keep this up?"

Michael felt a sharp flash of anger. "It's not like I'm alone in this," he practically snapped, and she barely reacted.

"No," she agreed. "You're not." She watched Geoff and Gavin for a few moments. "You know," she said, "if Gavin were anyone else, Geoff would have come up with an amazing 'if you hurt him, I'll fucking break you' speech about him."

Michael breathed out a laugh. "Yeah," he agreed. "Good thing Gavin's Gavin instead, so he'll never need one."

Griffon looked at him seriously. "He doesn't keep people, Michael. He fucks them and drops them."

"Yeah, thanks, Griffon," he said. "I'm not actually unfamiliar with the concept of Gavin Free."

She shook her head. "No, I mean, he picks up people specifically that he _can_ drop. People he meets at a bar. People who live halfway across the country. People from the internet. Gavin doesn't fuck people he likes."

"I know," Michael said. Somehow, his glass was empty when he raised it to his lips, and he set it down too hard. "I asked him about Dan once, and he was _horrified_. Not because he's a dude, or because they're friends or whatever, but because he'd have to _talk_ to him afterwards."

Griffon laughed. "Sounds about right," she said, but her eyes on Michael were serious. 

"Look," he said, "I get it. It's weird. This whole thing is...weird. But it _works_." It was all bullshit, and she _knew_ it was bullshit, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from getting defensive. It should have been a relief to have someone other than Lindsay who he could drop the act around, but suddenly he didn't _want_ to. He wanted to make Griffon _get_ it, that no, Gavin didn't fuck friends, but he sometimes fucked _Michael_. "It's different," he said inarticulately, and Griffon nodded.

"Okay," she said simply. 

"Okay?" he asked suspiciously. "That doesn't sound much like the 'don't fuck it up' I was expecting."

She shrugged. "Things get fucked up," she said. "Especially with these people involved." She waved a hand at her party. "Fuck it up or don't, that's your call."

He sighed. "I don't even know what fucking it up would look like anymore," he admitted.

She slung an arm over his shoulder and gestured towards Gavin and Geoff. Gavin was laughing, his arm looped around Geoff's leg, and he met Michael's eyes from across the room and waved him over enthusiastically. "Not like this," she said. "C'mon." She squeezed him briefly and stood unsteadily. "I guess we should see what kind of trouble they're getting into."

"And help them get into more?" Michael suggested. 

"Something like that, yeah."

She paused to dance with one of her friends on the way across the room, and he settled down by Gavin's side. Gavin tipped easily from resting his head against Geoff's leg to pressing his face to Michael's neck, and Michael wrapped an arm around him, grinning. "Hey," he said quietly, and Gavin mumbled a reply against his skin.

"Don't listen to anything she was telling you," Geoff told Michael. "She's entirely full of shit."

"Well, her decision-making skills are clearly not to be trusted," Michael replied. "She married you, and her taste in drinks is horrific."

Geoff kicked him lightly, and Michael squirmed out of his range, dragging Gavin with him. They collapsed back, overbalancing, and Griffon stepped carefully over them to press herself against Geoff. She leaned down to whisper something in his ear, and he grinned, looping an arm around her and pulling her in for a kiss.

"Hi, Michael." Gavin's face was very close to his, leaning over him, and Michael let his head fall back against the floor, smiling up at him.

"Having fun?" he asked, and Gavin nodded before leaning in to kiss him, slow and teasing. Michael thought about pulling away, but it was nicer to stay there and let Gavin press him back into the floor, getting comfortable on top of him, kissing him lazily while the music pounded around them.

"Hey, no fucking on my floor," Griffon said finally, and Gavin took a long time to stop kissing him, finally pulling back and grinning down at Michael.

"If this looks like fucking to you," Michael said, looking up at Griffon over Gavin's shoulder, "I think Geoff might need some lessons."

"Funny guy," Geoff said, kicking him lightly again, and Michael rolled away, out from under Gavin. He pushed himself to his feet and offered Gavin a hand up, which he took and then kept, standing there with their fingers tangled together. "Go home," Geoff told them. "You're fucking blasted."

"Blame your wife," Michael told him, "and her shitty drinks."

"Oh, trust me, I do. For _so many_ things."

"You're not exactly Mr. Good Decisions yourself, _Lazer_ ," Griffon pointed out, settling herself into Geoff's lap, and he wrapped his arms around her, even while he glared.

"That's not – " he began, and Michael cut him off.

"Night, guys," he said, tightening his fingers around Gavin's, and he headed for the door. The air was cool when they emerged from the studio, and Gavin leaned back against the outside wall, pulling Michael into the space in front of him.

"Don't go home?" he offered.

Michael nodded, fitting himself against Gavin and not kissing him, just leaning there for a minute, breathing in the cool air and listening to the sounds of the party continuing inside. "Yeah," he agreed finally, pushing aside the thought that this was probably the last time he'd get that offer. Instead, he focused on how badly he wanted it, to sprawl out on Gavin's bed, windows open, fan cooling his skin, quiet and horizontal and alone except for Gavin, stretched out next to him. How he'd wanted so badly not that long ago to take Geoff's place, letting Gavin lean back against him and play with his hair idly as they talked, and instead he'd get to settle into bed with him, drunk and exhausted together. "Yeah," he said again. "Let's get out of here."  
______________

"You ready for this?"

Michael drummed his fingers against the wall behind him for a second and reached to take the Red Bull out of Gavin's hand, taking a long swig of it. "Born ready, motherfucker," he said, handing the drink back. "This is kind of what I do. The question is, are _you_ ready?"

Gavin looked wounded. "Michael, I am a professional."

Michael laughed. "A professional _what_ , exactly? We're not filming me breaking up with you in slo mo, here."

"You know, why does it have to be you breaking up with me?" Gavin asked. "I could have had enough of you."

Michael glared at him. "Stick to the script, Gavin. I throw things around and swear at you, you look like a confused hurt little puppy - it won't be hard, you have a lot of practice at it - and everybody goes home single with a lot more cash in their pockets. Except for everyone who's not us. This is foolproof, even for you. Don't fuck it up."

"See, this is why I'd leave you," Gavin pointed out. "You're not very nice to me."

"Hi, yes, welcome to life with Michael Jones. I'm not very nice to _anyone_." His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. _Go time_. "They're on their way back," he said, and reached for Gavin's hand, dragging him into the office.

Gavin kept a hold of him for just a moment too long, and smiled at him almost sadly. "Goodbye, Michael," he said overdramatically, and Michael laughed at him.

"It's not like I'm actually going anywhere, Gav," he said, and immediately switched gears as he heard voices in the hallway. "Jesus Christ, Gavin!" he yelled, yanking his hand away. "Just - fucking - fuck _off_ , would you?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Jack asked as the other guys appeared in the doorway, and narrowly missed taking a flying stuffed creeper to the face.  
________

Michael should have been surprised to open his door after his dramatic exit from the building to find Gavin standing there, shifting from foot to foot, but instead he just propped it open and waved him in like they hadn't just thrown a knock-down-drag-out in the middle of their office.

"That was _epic_ , Michael," Gavin said, bouncing on his toes as he followed Michael back into the apartment. "You really sold it. They're going to expect us to be at odds for weeks now."

Michael made a face. "Yeah," he agreed. "I think that's going to be the hard part. We're not very good at leaving each other alone, are we?"

"Not lately, no," Gavin agreed. He stepped into Michael's space, and Michael laughed, pushing him back lightly.

"Yeah, I think that's out," he pointed out. "Anything where you're within a few feet of me would probably set off the rage meter if I actually _was_ that pissed at you."

"Luckily," Gavin said, insinuating himself against Michael again, "you're not actually."

"No, but – " Michael began, and Gavin cut off the rest of the sentence with a kiss.

Michael staggered back, all but pushing him away. " _Gavin._ Cut it out."

Gavin frowned at him. "All right," he said, holding up his hands. "No kissing, then. Just a bit of a celebratory tug?" He stepped back in, reaching for Michael's pants, and Michael darted back.

"Christ, Gavin! We broke up, or did you miss that?"

"Yeah, but that's not _real_ , is it?" Gavin asked, looking perplexed.

Michael sighed. "None of it was real."

"Exactly! If it wasn't real while it was supposed to be, why would it be real now?"

"Ugh, I have definitely been spending too much time with you, because that almost made sense."

" _Michael_."

"Gavin, look." He reached to rub at his forehead, wincing. "We can't just _do_ this, okay?"

Gavin's frown was pure confusion. "Why not, though?" He reached out towards Michael, and Michael pulled away from him forcefully. 

"It was a bet," he said carefully. "People put money down that we wouldn't do a thing, so we did the thing and won the money. That's how this sort of thing works. The whole point of staging a fight today was so that we could _stop_ doing this, go back to normal, remember?"

Gavin frowned deeply. "But we were never doing it in the first place," he objected. "Or, well. We were, but no one knew that we were. Or, everyone knew that we were, but they didn't know that we _were_ , see?"

"Gavin," Michael said. "English. Preferably the American kind."

"It's fake," Gavin said. "It's all fake, right? The kissing, and the nodding off at each other's places, and you sucking my dick, yeah? It was never real, it never _counted_ for anything."

"Right," Michael agreed. 

"Except we're not going to stop hanging out now, are we?" Gavin asked. "We're not going to stop seeing each other every day, and playing games, and getting bevs, and going for swims. We're just going to stop being all fucking lovey dovey, right? Why can't this just be another thing we keep doing, instead of a thing we stop doing?"

"Because it's _different_ now," Michael said.

"No it's not. Why would it be?"

"Because, Gavin!" he said, his voice rising towards yelling. "You're _you_."

"So, what, suddenly you're not into my knob? Because I'm _me_ again? This might be a shock to you, Michael, but I've been me the whole time."

"I _know_ that, Gavin!" he replied sharply. "I have known you a long fucking time, and I think I can pick you out of a lineup when you wake up in my bed. But you know what else I've picked up from knowing you that long? You don't fuck people you like!" He was outright yelling by the end of it, his fingers clenching into fists, and Gavin blinked slowly at him in response.

"What." It was barely even a question.

"You don't," he said very slowly and clearly, "fuck people you like. That's, like, the number one rule of Gavin Free. You only fuck people you never have to see again if you don't want to."

"But I like _you_ ," Gavin objected. "And I see you every day. And we've been having it off for weeks now."

"So you see my problem with this whole arrangement!"

"Not really, no."

"You _drop_ people, Gavin. All of a sudden one day, you just fucking disappear. And that's fine when it's some stranger you hooked up with in a bar – I mean, it's not _fine_ , it makes you kind of a shitty human being, but it _works_ , you know? But you can't _do_ that here. Maybe you haven't noticed, but we _work_ together. There are a lot of people whose lives are going to get a lot more complicated if you decide to have some kind of big gay freakout one day and fucking go off the map."

"Big gay freakout?" Gavin repeated incredulously. "That's what you're worried about? That I'm going to wake up one day and realize you have a knob? Apparently you missed it while you were busy being up your own arse, but I've been _having_ a nice big gay freakout for a few _years_ here. It's old news by this point, and I happen to _like_ your dick, along with the rest of you." He glared at Michael, looking betrayed. "You think I would _drop_ you, Michael?"

"I think – " Michael began, and broke off, turning away. "I don't know. And that's the problem, isn't it? I don't fucking _know_."

"I thought that was the whole point of this being fake," Gavin said behind him. "That it doesn’t _matter_ , not really. It's just you and me, knocking about. Team Nice Dynamite, yeah?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "That was the point, Gav." His fingers curled against his palms and he didn't turn around. "But I'm not sure – " he didn't finish the sentence.

Gavin drew in a slow breath behind him, and Michael wanted to fucking pound his fist through the wall to keep Gavin from opening his stupid mouth again, but he was pretty sure he couldn't afford the security deposit, and anyway, he was too late, because Gavin was already saying quietly, "It _was_ fake, Michael. Wasn't it?"

Michael breathed out carefully. "I…" He wanted to lie, to say, _yeah, Gavin, of course, I did it all for the sweet dough_ , and laugh it off, but the words stuck in his throat as he thought about Gavin tipping back in his chair to beam at him, curling up to sleep against Michael's side, kissing him on the floor of the Fort with the bass pounding in their chests and the lights catching the edges of his hair. "Just…go away, okay, Gavin?" His voice was tense and sharp, and he kept his back turned so he didn't have to see Gavin's face fall, but he knew what it looked like anyway, that combination of anger and disappointment and flat out confusion at how things had imploded so badly and so quickly. He closed his eyes, dreading the moment when Gavin said his name, because he was pretty sure hearing _Michael_ in that voice was going to break him, was going to make him turn around and grab Gavin by the shoulders and push him against the wall and take him right there, like they were back in Burnie's hallway making out for the first time, and then they would be _doing_ this, not as a bet, but because he _wanted_ to, maybe even _needed_ to.

Instead, Gavin said "Okay" in a voice Michael had never heard from him, and he closed the door so hard behind him that the TV wobbled on its stand.  
______________

 _Bar_ , he texted Lindsay, and was halfway into his beer by the time she showed up, plunking her bag down on the table in front of him and saying, "Michael, what - " before she cut herself off, inspecting his face. "Oh, _no_."

"What?" he demanded.

"You - " she looked around shiftily, and leaned in. "You _actually_ broke up, didn't you?"

"I..." He wanted to deny it, to say there was nothing to break up, but he thought about the finality of Gavin slamming his door between them and said quietly instead, "I don't know."

" _Michael_ ," Lindsay said, collapsing into the seat next to him. "What did you _do_?"

"Me?" he asked angrily. "I didn't do anything!"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You did. You definitely fucked this up somehow." She stuck a finger in his face. " _How?_ "

"I didn't - " he began, but she interrupted him.

"It was an incredibly simple plan." She ticked off the points on her fingers. "You pretend to fuck, you pretend to break up, you pretend to make up, everybody stays friends, all of us make money. Which of those steps could you _possibly_ have failed at?"

He winced. "Maybe the first one?" he offered.

"No," she objected, "that can't be it. You were very - " She stopped and stared at him. "Oh. _Michael_."

He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "Very convincing?" he finished for her.

"You _fucked_ him?"

"Not...exactly," Michael hedged.

She looked intrigued. "How was it?" she asked. He glared at her. "No, never mind, tell me later. This is more important. What _happened_?" He glared at her some more. "No, I mean right now, Michael. What happened between your blowout at the office and right now?"

He sighed. "He thinks nothing has changed," he said.

"But nothing _has_." She looked perplexed. "That was the point, right? You pretend to break up and have everything go back to normal."

"No, I mean, he thinks nothing has changed from when we were - " he waved a hand. "You know."

She scrutinized him. "So the problem here," she said slowly, "is that he still wants to stick it in you."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And you... _don't_ want that?"

"I - " Michael began, about to agree with her, but couldn't quite keep himself from remembering the feeling of Gavin's hips twisting against him, the sight of his fingers tangling into the sheets, the sounds he made as he thrust helplessly into Michael's mouth. "I don't know," he said miserably.

"So he wants it," she clarified. "And _you_ want it. And everyone involved is a reasonable adult - for values of 'adult' that include people who play video games for a living - who can make their own decisions. So...what's the problem, exactly?"

"It's _Gavin_."

"Right," she agreed. "Gavin. Who you just spent a month hanging out with and kissing and pretending you were totally crazy about, oh, and also apparently having hot sex with."

"For a _bet_ ," Michael reminded her.

"So what?" she asked. "You don't want to have to give the money back? As far as anyone has to know, you were together for a month, broke up for like thirty seconds right now, and then got back together. Who cares?"

"No, I don't - " Michael began, and froze, the words halfway to his lips.

"You don't what, Michael?" Lindsay prompted him. He closed his mouth and shook his head, refusing to continue, and a grin started to spread across her face.

"Stop it," he said miserably. He pushed back from the table. "Stop smiling _right now_ , Tuggey," he demanded, and she just beamed wider at him.

"You were going to say that you don't care about the money."

He opened his mouth to object, but snapped it shut again. "Fuck _me_ ," he groaned, and kicked the table.

"No, thanks," she said brightly. "I try not to get involved with coworkers who are involved with other coworkers. Things just get messy." 

He stared at her, feeling the pieces clicking into place at the word _involved_. It had never worked for him, thinking of him and Gavin as _dating_. They didn't _date_ , they just hung out, and sometimes made out, and it wasn't weird, even when they first started. It _should_ have been weird, adding kissing Gavin and fucking Gavin onto what they already had, but it never had been, because it was _Gavin_ , who made him laugh, and infuriated him to no end, who would steal his beer and bring him coffee, and who had gotten so tightly wound into everything in Michael's life that nothing about the terms of the bet had even fazed them. Everything had clicked together so naturally that he hadn't even thought to question it until it was too late, until he found himself sitting in the middle of a party and trying to justify that what they had was _working_ , even though it was never supposed to. 

"I have to go," he choked out, and Lindsay reached across the table to take his beer, toasting him with it.

"Good luck, buddy," she said. He dug into his pocket for his wallet, but she waved him off. "I've got this." 

"Thanks," he said, and didn't actually turn for the door. "What am I even gonna – "

"You'll figure it out," she said. "You'll pull something brilliant out of your ass at the last minute. And even if you don't," she shrugged. "It's Gavin. He basically thinks you're the best thing that's ever happened."

He paused, considering that. "Yeah," he finally had to agree. "Why _is_ that, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Fucking beats me." She pointed steadily at the door, and this time, he followed her direction, turning resolutely and heading for his car, each plan he formulated feeling even more ridiculous than the last.  
______________

"Nope."

Geoff was sitting on the porch, arms crossed with a beer by his side, feet propped up on the railing.

"Geoff," Michael began, but he shook his head.

"Nope," he said again. "Look, you two fuckups decided to do this thing, and we all just sat by and patted you on the back for it because - well, mostly because Gavin's more manageable when he's getting laid, let's face it - and we waited for it to implode. It's done that. You're finished. You've had your little tantrum, you've broken a few pieces of equipment that you will absolutely be paying to replace, and now you get to take a cooldown, and see if you two can still work together. But not on my time, and not in my house."

Michael sighed. "It's none of your business, Geoff. I'm here to talk to Gavin, not you."

"You made it my business when you decided to stage your breakup in the middle of my office, Jones. You know how many cameras were recording right then? How many mics picked you up? Yeah, me neither. That makes it company business, which makes it my business. Which, trust me, is not a thing I _ever_ wanted happening. So no. If you want to talk to Gavin - "

"You should," Griffon concluded, leaning against the screen door. 

Geoff shot a look at her over his shoulder. "Not actually what I was going for, honey," he pointed out.

She shrugged. "That's because you're their boss, and you have to say that shit. I'm not, and I don't." She looked from him to Michael. "Go ahead," she said, "I'll make sure he doesn't break out the shotgun or anything."

"You have - " Michael began, then thought better of it. "Never mind. Thanks, Griffon."

"Don't fuck it up."

"What happened to 'things get fucked up'?" he asked her.

"You've done enough of that," she said. "Now fix it."

He took the stairs to the loft two at a time, clomping loudly against them so there was no way that Gavin could pretend not to hear him. He thought about pounding on the door, but reconsidered as he heard the sound effects of sirens and chopper blades through the door. 

"Don't do something dumb and get yourself killed," he called, and waited not long at all before the sound effects dimmed and were replaced by a string of muffled curses. "Hey, yeah, like that!" he said, and waited for Gavin to wrench the door open in front of him.

"Sod off, Michael," he said.

"Sure," Michael agreed, "but first I've just got to say one thing."

Gavin eyed him suspiciously, but stepped back far enough to allow Michael into his apartment. "You never say just one thing," he pointed out.

"That's true," Michael agreed. "I actually came to say about a dozen things. First, you're a fucking idiot. Second, I’m a fucking idiot. Third, Lindsay's a fucking idiot. I'm wondering if you're starting to sense a theme here."

"Is fourth that Burnie's a fucking idiot?" Gavin asked. "He was to blame for all of this in the first place, wasn't he?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that one. Yeah, Burnie's a fucking idiot, too."

"Do any of these have anything to do with anyone _not_ being a fucking idiot?" Gavin asked.

"Have you met the people we know?" Michael asked. "No. Everyone's a fucking idiot."

"Then that's a lot more than twelve things, and none of them are anything I didn't know before," Gavin said. "So I think I'm going to stand by my 'sod off.'"

"Okay, no," Michael said, holding up his hands. "That's not all I came to say. I mean, it _is_ , mostly, but the important one was that _I'm_ a fucking idiot." He sighed, pacing back and forth across the small empty section of floor in the middle of the room, and Gavin perched warily at the end of the bed, watching him. "You remember the first time you ever stood me up?"

Gavin shrugged. "Not really."

"I do," Michael said. "I remember the second time, too, and the time after that. I think it was the fourth time when I sent you that six paragraph email explicitly detailing all of the ways I was going to fucking murder you the next time I saw you."

"That one, I remember. I thought I'd really bollocksed it up."

"You did, Gavin. But I texted you to go get waffles the next morning anyway, because it turns out I've gotten really used to getting fucked over by you."

Gavin looked miserable. " _Michael_ …"

"That's the point, though, isn't it? I've gotten used to all stupid shit you do that pisses me off, and you've gotten used to all the stupid shit I do that pisses you off, and it's dumb, it's so _fucking_ dumb, but Lindsay just called us 'involved' while I was at the bar with her, and my first thought was that of _course_ we're involved. We've never _not_ been involved. Hell, your first real day on the job, I dropped my editing on you and you just rolled with that shit. You didn't even _know_ me."

"You're Michael Rage Quit Jones," Gavin said with just a hint of humor creeping back into his voice. "I'd heard it wasn't a good idea to piss you off."

Michael shook his head. "You had my _back_ , Gavin," he insisted.

"I always have your back," he said simply. "You're my boy."

Michael stepped towards him, and Gavin looked up at him steadily from the bed, not reaching for him, but tilting his head back as Michael slid into the space in front of him. "Your boy for real for fake?" Michael asked, and Gavin shrugged.

"For whatever, really," he said, and when Michael leaned in, Gavin stretched up to meet him.

There was nothing tentative about the kiss, but nothing showy, either. It was just _them_ , Michael curling down over Gavin, one of Gavin's feet hooking around the back of Michael's leg to hold him close. Michael slid his hands down Gavin's neck to his back, pulling at his shirt, needing to feel their skin against each other immediately, and Gavin pulled back to toss his shirt away, looking up at Michael and tugging at the corner of his until he did the same. Gavin scooted back on the bed and Michael followed, leaning over him like the first time they'd done this, but this time, he let one of his hands trail down Gavin's throat, across his collarbone, down his chest to his side, watching the way he shivered and jumped at the touch.

"Not _fair_ , Michael," he objected as Michael teased his fingers lightly across the line of Gavin's waistband, and Michael grinned down at him.

"I don't remember establishing any rules," he said, dropping his head to suck an open-mouthed kiss to Gavin's neck, making him squirm under him. He pressed his hand against the outline of Gavin's dick through his pants, and Gavin tipped his head back, baring more skin for Michael to kiss. He teased him like that for a long while, until Gavin was reaching down, knocking Michael's hand out of the way and touching himself through his pants instead. Michael paused for a moment, transfixed by the way Gavin's eyes went unfocused, his hand smooth and practiced in its movements, and he was still staring when Gavin looked up at him and started to smirk. "What – " Michael began, but Gavin was too busy launching himself off the bed and tackling Michael down onto it, knocking the breath out of him in a laugh. "Gavin – " Michael began, but Gavin pinned him face down, reaching under him to undo Michael's pants, pushing at them and his boxers impatiently until he kicked them off. He was hard, just from the sight and feeling of Gavin squirming and desperate under him, and he pressed down against the sheets for any kind of friction he could get.

Gavin reached for the bedside table with one hand, the other closing around Michael's wrist, holding his arm over his head. Michael started to buck back against him, but when Gavin's other hand returned, it was slick as it slipped under his body and grasped his dick lightly. "Oh, _fuck_ , Gavin," Michael said, and Gavin fit his body against Michael's back, still hard in his pants, pressing him down into the bed.

"Don't move," he said quietly against Michael's ear, and Michael couldn't keep himself from testing it, from jerking his hips back against Gavin, twisting his wrist in his grasp, and Gavin's hand stilled immediately, a firm tantalizing tease around his dick. Michael groaned against the pillow, and Gavin left him there for a long while, practically lounging on top of him, uncaring as Michael twisted his hips futilely.

He went still finally, sinking into the bed and letting his fingers go limp on the hand Gavin was holding, fisting his other hand into the sheets in frustration, and only then did Gavin start moving, his hand gliding hot and smooth over Michael's dick, his own hardness pressing against the curve of Michael's ass through his pants. Michael closed his eyes and lost himself in the overwhelming feeling of Gavin against him, his hand tight around him, and eventually he couldn't keep still anymore, fucking down into Gavin's hand, letting out a sharp noise as Gavin let him move, twisting his hand around him and still holding on tightly to Michael's wrist.

"Come on, Michael," he said finally, quiet and breathless beside Michael's ear, like just seeing Michael like this was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him, "I've got you," and Michael came instantly, driving his hips forward into Gavin's hand, choking out muffled curses into the sheets.

He went utterly limp as Gavin rolled off him, not sure he was ever going to be able to move again. "So, that's a yes, then," Gavin said smugly, and Michael laughed breathlessly, stretching out his wrist.

"I thought you didn't watch porn," he said.

"I'd much rather live it," Gavin said, and when Michael twisted to look at him, he was touching himself through his pants again.

" _Fuck_ ," Michael groaned, watching for a moment before he reached for Gavin's pants.

Gavin kicked them off easily, and had his hand around himself again immediately, jerking slowly and teasingly, letting his head fall back against the pillows and fucking into his hand. Michael did nothing but watch for a long moment, imagining Gavin doing this alone, maybe thinking about him. Maybe he'd come home after that night in the club and done this, sprawled out on the bed, and it was that thought that had Michael reaching for him, touching his fingers to Gavin's hand, trying to get him to let him take over, but Gavin met his eyes instead, letting them flicker down unmistakably to Michael's lips.

Michael's mouth curved into a smile, pretending not to catch the hint, and Gavin let his eyes drop closed, breathing out, "Michael, _please_."

As exhausted as his body was, the wrecked sound of Gavin's voice sent a sharp wave of arousal through him, and he leaned down to wrap his mouth around the tip of Gavin's dick, Gavin still stroking it slowly, his fingers sliding up to meet Michael's lips. It didn't take long at all before the soft noises he was making had gone louder and changed into Michael's name, his other hand pulling roughly at the base of Michael's hair until he pulled off, and he looked up in time to watch Gavin come, his head thrown back, a wordless cry coming from his lips.

He patted Michael's hair almost apologetically as he pulled his hand back, and Michael flopped onto the bed next to him, letting an arm drop across Gavin's chest. "Ugh, you're _warm_ ," Gavin objected, rolling out from under him and heading for the bathroom, and Michael stretched out across the whole bed, laughing.

"'Don't Touch Me, You're Warm,' a romance starring Gavin Free," Michael said. Gavin climbed directly over him when he returned, sprawling out half on top of Michael, and Michael squirmed away to one side of the bed again. "Okay," he allowed, "you might have a point." They carefully arranged themselves so they were next to each other but not touching, stretched out on top of the sheets, and when Michael opened his eyes again, Gavin's face was pressed into the pillow, his eyes intent on Michael. "Hey," he said, and Gavin gave him a wide uncomplicated smile.

"Hi, Michael."

"This is…" Michael waved at them. "It's okay, yeah?"

"It's top," Gavin assured him, burrowing into the pillow. "And that's not my number one rule, you know," he added.

Michael blinked. "What?"

"Not shagging people I like. I like most people I take a tumble with well enough, I just expect they're not going to want much to do with _me_ afterward. It's easier to let things fade out than let it get all awkward, right?"

"Usually, I guess," Michael agreed. "This is different, though."

"Of course it's different, Michael. It's _you_."

"I mean, with work – "

"Fuck work," Gavin said with unexpected sharpness. His eyes blinked open and he lifted his head enough to look at Michael. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I can count on my fingers the number of people who will put up with me for extended periods of time, and I might even have enough left over to give you a good tug. It's not the _job_ I'm worried about if this goes tits-up. I still have that email from you, you know. The one you sent before waffles that time. I kept it to remind myself that I don't just get to keep you around because I want to. I've got to make _you_ want it too."

"Gavin - " Michael began, but Gavin cut him off.

"Don't get all – " he waved a hand expressively. "All I'm saying is that I felt like a right shit when I walked out of your place this afternoon, and it was only a bit because I had to call Geoff to pick me up."

"The shotgun is suddenly making sense," Michael said dryly. Gavin nudged him with his toes, and Michael let himself smile at him. "I get it, Gav. You're saying you're not going anywhere."

Gavin nodded. "That's what I'm saying," he agreed.

"Okay." It should have been more complicated than that, but lying there with Gavin curled up beside him, his eyes tired and unguarded, his hair still sticking up from being raked through by Michael's fingers, he couldn't quite come up with a compelling reason not to believe that Gavin meant what he was saying. "Okay," Michael agreed again, and let his eyes drop closed, reaching to press a hand possessively to the curve of Gavin's hip.

Gavin reached out to pat Michael's face sleepily. "You're still a fucking idiot, though," he said.

"I can live with that," Michael agreed.

He was nearly asleep when his phone beeped from the floor. Gavin made a questioning noise in his sleep, and Michael touched his back soothingly before reaching down into his pocket for his phone. It was Lindsay, still at the bar, a picture of herself looking deeply concerned with Barb laughing in the background. Michael grinned and sat up, holding up the phone to take a picture of a thumbs-up in front of a sleeping Gavin.

He muted the phone after he sent the picture and tossed it back onto his pants, settling down again and dropping an arm around Gavin's waist. Gavin grumbled quietly and curled against him, and Michael closed his eyes, letting himself drift away to the feeling of Gavin breathing deep and even beside him.  
______________

"Lovely morning, lads," Geoff said, strolling into the office with his sunglasses still on, and Michael exchanged a look with Gavin.

"You're...cheerful," he hedged.

"That's because I had an excellent weekend," Geoff explained. 

"Oh?" Michael asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that's great. But the last I heard, there was a pretty good chance you were going to come after me with a shotgun."

"Oh, that," said Geoff, waving a hand carelessly. "Nah."

 _Nah?_ Michael mouthed at Gavin, who shrugged.

"You see, boys," Geoff said, leaning back against his desk, "it turns out that I won a lot of money this weekend."

"Oh yeah?" Michael asked. "Burnie have poker night again?"

"Nope." Geoff held out a hand. "Pay up, fellas."

"Geoff, what - " Gavin began, and Geoff interrupted him.

"The thing about entering into the terms of a bet," he said, "is that there is a code of honor involved."

Michael snorted. "Honor," he repeated. "Right."

"The kind of honor," Geoff continued, "that doesn't include pretending to fulfill the terms in order to collect."

"We didn't - " Michael began.

"It was Lindsay's idea!" Gavin said at the same time.

"Wow." Lindsay stuck her head in from the next room. " _Right_ under the bus. No hesitation. You hear that?" she asked Geoff.

"I heard it," he agreed. "I don't care _whose_ idea it was. I care that you were _not_ in fact dating by the end of last month, which means that Lindsay did not in fact win anything, which means that _you_ did not in fact win anything." He held out his hand again. "Pay. Up."

"Fat chance," said Michael. "Sorry to break it to you, but you could just as easily say that you lost."

"You _could_ say that," Geoff agreed, "but it'd be completely false, so I don't know why you would."

"You bet against us," Gavin pointed out. "And I don't know if you noticed, but we were kind of going at it all weekend."

"Point number one, ew. Point number two, did I do that?" Geoff asked. He looked up at Lindsay. "Where do you think they could have gotten that idea? Last I checked, I'm on the calendar for this month."

Lindsay shrugged innocently, catching Michael's eye, but she couldn't keep the smile from starting to pull at the corner of her mouth. "Son of a _bitch_ ," Michael muttered. "Gav, we got played. We got played _hard_."

"I'm starting to get that, yeah."

"Luckily," Lindsay said, "I've been keeping an eye on the loot until their little game was up. Just for safekeeping." She handed a thick envelope to Geoff. "Your winnings," she said with a flourish.

He pulled out some bills and handed them back to her. "And the rest of your cut, for a job well done."

"Thanks, boss."

"But wait," said Michael, "who _was_ the money going to go to if we never got together, then? If Geoff didn't bet that we'd never do it..."

"Oh, someone did do that," Lindsay said, "but it wasn't Geoff."

"Who - "

"Ray," Geoff said. "Because, and I quote, he was 'just gonna puke everywhere on everything' if he had to think about it."

"Charming," said Lindsay dryly.

"Hey Ray!" Michael called. "I sucked Gavin's dick and I liked it!" Ray made exaggerated retching noises from the next room.

"Yeah?" Gavin asked, looking pleased.

" _Ugh_ ," Geoff interrupted before Michael could answer. "I don't want to hear it."

Lindsay frowned at him. "As someone who helped facilitate this, I don't think you get to complain."

"Hell yes, I get to object to hearing about your sex lives. I am your _boss_ , and also you're all like twelve."

"Oh, so it's all right for me to have to hear what you and Griffon get up to - " Gavin objected.

"That's educational."

"That's _disgusting_ , is what it is."

" _You're_ disgusting," Geoff replied, and Gavin reached to steal the glasses off his face, bounding away to leap onto the couch and hold them out of his reach. Geoff followed with an inarticulate growl, and Michael and Lindsay exchanged a look.

"Professionalism in action," she said dryly, and he laughed.

"I'm telling you," he replied. "Like working in a middle school." He eyed her. "Nice work, by the way."

"Thanks. I'd say I was sorry for fucking you over, but, well. You don't care about the money, right?"

He grinned. "I did say that, didn't I?" She looked a little worried, so he leaned to bump his shoulder against hers. "We're good," he said. "Everyone got what they wanted, I think."

"Except me!" yelled Ray from the next room.

"No one fucking cares, Narvaez!" Michael replied, and just like that, with Gavin and Geoff grappling on the couch, Michael and Ray sniping at each other through the open door, and Lindsay pulling out her camera to get the wrestling match on tape, everything settled back into the office's latest definition of normal.  
_______________

GF: "Nah, it's not _dating_ , though, is it?"  
BB: "Oh, I don't know, Gavin. Is it? What definition are we going with this week? Because it seems like you have a different concept of it every time this comes up."  
BD: "He's just always trying to disqualify anything he's currently doing."  
BB: "So you're not 'dating' anyone right now, Gavin? By your definition, I mean."  
GF: "That's a bit personal, though, innit?"  
GS: "Right, because we never talk about anything personal on the podcast."  
GF: "If you're trying to get me to say – "  
GS: "We're not trying to get you to say _anything_ , Gavin. You're the one that brought this up."  
BB: "But since we're here. I mean, _is_ there anything you want to say? In terms of your personal life?"  
GF: "Not – no. I don't think so. No."  
BB: "In relation to a certain bet you might have lost recently, maybe?"  
GF: "Nah, but I won, didn't I?"  
BB: " _Did_ you? Because the way I hear it, Geoff and Lindsay took you to the cleaners."  
GF: "No, okay, that's not – are we going to do this?"  
GS: "Can we not do this?"  
[muffled conversation from offstage]  
BB: "Oh, we've got comments from the peanut gallery now. Michael, did you have something you'd like to add?"  
BD: "Come on, Michael. Come sit next to me. Somebody get him mic'd?"  
MJ: [leaning over Gavin's shoulder to his mic] "Okay, no, here's what happened..."  
GS: "Hang on, get mic'd, I'm going to read this."  
MJ: "Fine, but stay tuned, folks, 'cause this is gonna be a good one."  
\- RT Podcast


End file.
